


Catalysis

by itsalwayssunnyit



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Fluff, Jealousy, M/M, Not Beta Read, Oral Sex, Public Display of Affection, Sex Pollen, Something Made Them Do It, Succubi & Incubi, Unfounded Jealousy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:27:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29333781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsalwayssunnyit/pseuds/itsalwayssunnyit
Summary: The acceleration of a chemical reaction by a catalyst. As a man of science, Jonathan Reid is very familiar with the concept. He still doesn't see it coming.When Elisabeth Ashbury decides to host this 'small thing' to welcome a 'dear old friend of hers' to London, Jonathan attends the event with Geoffrey McCullum as his companion, which is nowhere near the most absurd thing to come out of the whole event. Then, when Elisabeth's dear old friend turns out not to be as harmless as expected, Jonathan finds himself having to deal with feelings he might or might not have been ignoring for a while and Geoffrey? He has no option but to come along for the ride (pun intended).
Relationships: Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid
Comments: 20
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my mother language and this hasn't been beta read, so each and every piece of feedback and/or corrections you feel like sending my way is greatly appreciated <3

Jonathan Reid is very much used to dealing with the unexpected, thank you kindly. The medical profession, for one, is riddled with unexpected developments and one has to be able to think on their feet in order to help their patients, of course. The fact that Jonathan has recently become a blood-drinking creature of the night and had to more or less save London from, well… _Disaster_ , only added to his predisposition to not bat as much as an eye at whatever life throws at him.

The fact that the vampire hunter Geoffrey McCullum has somehow become one of Jonathan’s favourite people in the entire world to spend time with, however, is something that still makes the doctor go ‘huh’ every now and then. Not because it happened overnight, mind you — it took Jonathan a good couple of months to convince the grumpy hunter that they were on the same side, after all. And it’s not even the fact that they’re form radically different backgrounds and predispositions, but Jonathan is still having a hard time dealing with the fact that less than a year ago Geoffrey was pretty much trying to kill him and now they meet once or twice a week, casually, even when there’s no pressing issues to discuss, no great danger to join forces against.

In the months following Jonathan’s return to London along with his dear friend Elisabeth Ashbury, a great many things have happened. Pembroke Hospital, for one, almost closed after Swansea’s… disappearance. They pulled through, however, stronger staff taking over until Jonathan felt it was safe for him to step away and move back in with his mother. Now he spends most of his nights tending to her and to his research. He still visits Elisabeth sometimes and tends to whatever patients are in need of his assistance, but more often than not he can be found in the company of a certain vampire hunter who, despite proclaiming time and again that he will _not_ become associated with leeches, will offer no resistance to spending hours and hours with Jonathan discussing vampire lore and whatever else comes to mind.

It’s only natural, then, that Geoffrey is the one that Jonathan invites along when Lady Ashbury decides to host this ‘small thing’ to introduce her ‘friend who’s visiting’ to her London circle. Since Elisabeth will be hosting, Jonathan doesn’t want to go alone, is how he justifies it to himself. Elisabeth doesn’t even look surprised when Jonathan asks if it’s okay to bring Geoffrey along, just… amused, for reasons Jonathan doesn’t want to dwell on. Geoffrey is still delightfully awkward around her, unable to give her the benefit of the doubt despite how often Jonathan’s vouched for her. The hunter is more than happy to accompany Jonathan, though, since, according to him, it’s as good a time as any to keep an eye on what their leechy associations are up to.

They arrive early in the night, but the ‘small thing’ Elisabeth refuses to call a party is already going strong, finger food and drink for their human guests on strategically placed tables, flower arrangements exhaling their sweet perfume through the house and at least a dozen individuals present, mortals and… well, _not_. The ones Jonathan hasn’t met in person, he knows by name. Charlotte Ashbury is the first person to come greet them, offering Geoffrey something to drink before quickly vanishing to greet someone else, leaving Jonathan to entertain his increasingly uncomfortable companion.

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Geoffrey stage whispers from behind his whiskey tumbler. “You know, this is almost as painful as that time we tried to get a peace treaty signed by all the leechy factions roaming the city.”

Jonathan remembers that particular night very vividly. Thankfully the whole thing was shut down before it really got started since most interested parties seemed all too happy keeping to themselves to bother actively participating. They did meet up, though. Jonathan shudders to even remember.

“Almost?” he raises an eyebrow. Geoffrey nods very seriously.

“Of course. I don’t really feel as much as a piece of steak hanging in front of starving dogs this time around, but just barely.” Jonathan watches Geoffrey sip his drink and can’t really blame the other guests for staring curiously at the hunter. He is a very handsome man and tonight he is particularly striking, with his smooth-shaven face and even the suit he’s wearing fits him like a glove. Jonathan, for one, is having a particularly hard time not devouring him with his eyes, which is something he might be experiencing more and more often as of late. Jonathan is thankfully saved from getting caught staring by Geoffrey’s stuttered, “L-Lady Ashbury!”

“Mr McCullum. Jonathan,” Elisabeth greets them, smiling politely. “May I introduce you the lovely Ms Lenore Wright? She’s a dear friend of mine and has just returned to London.”

And that’s when Jonathan notices the young woman standing next to Elisabeth, eyes glinting with glee and what looks vaguely like mischief. Jonathan is not fooled, though. Miss Wright looks just barely out of her twenties, but she may as well be a thousand years old and no one would be able to tell. He instantly knows she’s not human, but he’s not sure exactly what she is, either. Still, he offers her a small bow and a kind, “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise,” she responds with a curtsy, her voice high and oddly musical. The smile on her lips is a bit too amused, though, and the golden glint in her dark eyes speaks of something supernatural. She stands by Elisabeth’s side, but keeps glancing between Jonathan and Geoffrey with a grin like she knows something no one else does.

“How are you enjoying London, Ms Wright?” Geoffrey has the common sense of asking when Jonathan decides to remain silent for an uncomfortably long moment. Ms Wright seems delighted at the question.

“Oh, it’s so good to be back. It’s been too long, really,” she tells the hunter and then goes on to list all the changes she’s noticed around London so far. Jonathan frowns and happily allows Geoffrey to entertain Ms Wright as she goes on and on until Elisabeth decides to excuse them to go say hello to the other guests.

“Well, she’s certainly enjoying herself,” Jonathan whispers to Geoffrey. Then he really looks at the hunter, who has this pained grin on his face like he can’t decide if he wants to laugh or kill himself. “All right, why are you making that face?”

“I just remembered,” Geoffrey glances at the ceiling and Jonathan knows he’s trying not to laugh. He raises a hand to get Jonathan to wait while he gets a hold of himself and then he says, “The reason why her family stayed out of England for so long?” and points at himself.

Jonathan is not sure he follows. “You?”

Geoffrey shrugs. “Well, not _me_ , but… yeah, Priwen.” He finishes his whiskey and then glances around as if looking for a place to leave his glass. “I knew I recognised her name. They were very closely tied to- Well, I’ll tell you later, ok? Not the place, nor the time. It was over fifteen years ago, anyway. I think I still have the journals, if you want to see them.”

And, well, Jonathan is always interested in some good old journaling and if that includes spending some time with Geoffrey, just the two of them, that’s not a bad way to end the night. Jonathan offers Geoffrey a complicit smile and very sincerely tells him, “I’m looking forward to it.”

-x-

At some point during the night, Charlotte seems to decide that tonight is _the_ night to talk Geoffrey’s ear off about women’s rights, so Jonathan leaves them talking by the fireplace and lets Elisabeth drag him to her study so that they can talk in private. Jonathan is actually relieved to be able to talk to Elisabeth at all tonight, without the _delightful_ Ms Wright hovering around them.

Something in the woman didn’t sit quite right with him — too cheerful, her eyes too bright.

So, as soon as they’re out of sight, Jonathan offers Elisabeth a concerned, “She's not one of us, is she?”

His voice is barely above a whisper, as he’s aware that they might be out of sight, but not of earshot. The smile Elisabeth gives him is this almost motherly thing, proud of how bright her boy is.

“No, she's not,” she agrees.

“But she’s not human, either,” Jonathan prods. Elisabeth nods.

“No, she’s something else.”

It is not often that Jonathan finds himself annoyed at Elisabeth — they’re friends, after all. _Very_ good friends. Hell, once, he even thought they could be _more_ than friends. But now he finds himself struggling to contain his impatience when he asks, “Does that _something_ _else_ happen to have a name, by any chance?”

“Aren’t you a curious little thing tonight, Dr. Reid?” Elisabeth coos at him. Jonathan fights off the urge to roll his eyes like an impertinent child. “She will only be here for a month or so. In London, I mean. She wants to sell her family’s estate. Cut all ties with the city.”

Elisabeth’s voice is carefully casual, but her words set off alarm bells inside the younger Ekon’s mind. “And why is that?” he demands, a bit more forcefully than intended. Elisabeth frowns.

“Well, if you must know, even amongst our kind, her bloodline is not well-liked,” she explains. “I see you, for instance, do not like her.”

“I don’t _know_ her,” he tries to argue even though it’s useless. Elisabeth sees right through him, as usual.

“And yet, you already dislike her,” Elisabeth states. “You surprise me, Jonathan.”

Something in the way she says it makes him feel suddenly cold, like he’s done something wrong.

“What do you mean?”

Before she can reply, however, Charlotte bursts into the study with a rushed, “Mum, where are the cards?” When she notices Jonathan, she goes, “Oh! Hi there, Dr Reid,” and then Jonathan realises Geoffrey is not with her — which means the hunter will be absolutely livid at Jonathan for leaving him alone to fend for himself in what is definitely not Geoffrey’s preferred social circle.

Too many sharp fangs, he’d argue, but Jonathan is pretty sure the fancy clothes and whiff of expensive perfume is what puts him off the most.

Elisabeth heads out to fetch the cards Charlotte wants. Jonathan follows them, glancing around in search of the hunter. The cards are in a cabinet in the hallway and Elisabeth is saying something to Charlotte about being careful with them, they’re an heirloom or something, but Jonathan is not paying any attention to them because he’s located Geoffrey.

The Irishman is standing to the side, a new drink in his hand and an easy smile on his lips as he listens to something Ms Lenore Wright is telling him. He looks so different when he smiles and he doesn’t smile often, even around Jonathan, even after all this time. Jonathan can’t help but want to take it in, but he feels very uneasy, all of a sudden.

Jonathan lets out an uncomfortable sigh. Such an odd night, such an odd sensation, strange thoughts swimming through his unexpectedly very confused mind. He meant to find Geoffrey, go to him, but can’t seem to move, now. He wants — _needs_ — to know what Ms Wright has said to get Geoffrey to smile at her like that, but can’t get his legs to work. He inhales a breath he doesn’t really need in hope of calming down, hissing through gritted teeth so sharply Elisabeth turns to him with a concerned expression on her face. He’s quick to avert her gaze; he would have hidden his face if he could, his cheeks burning with sudden embarrassment at his own thoughts.

He sort of wants to march across the room and pull Geoffrey away from that woman and he has no idea where these troubled feelings are stemming from.

Oh, why on Earth did he leave the hunter alone in the first place?

“Jonathan, I am _talking_ to you,” Elisabeth says. The irritation in her voice makes it clear she’s been trying to get his attention. Then the deep and rich sound of Geoffrey’s laughter reaches Jonathan’s ears and Jonathan’s upper lip pulls up in a snarl he can’t repress. When he glances towards the hunter, his eyes meet not Geoffrey’s, but Ms Wright’s. The golden glint in her eyes seems to shine even brighter from this distance and Jonathan takes an involuntary step backwards, pressing a hand to his own chest where his heart is beating like a thousand angry drums.

“Oh. I see,” Elisabeth murmurs. She sounds so _regretful_ and Jonathan doesn’t need to breathe, but it’s unsettling how difficult it suddenly is to pull a breath in. Jonathan rubs a hand across his own face, smothers a curse against his open palm, half-crazed eyes flying to a hundred different spots around the room but falling once more on Geoffrey and on the point where the hunter’s hand is now being cradled in one of Ms Wright’s.

Throat tight, Jonathan feels at once like punching a wall and crying with frustration, overcome with wrath and something painful and venomous he doesn’t recognise at all. He’s never felt anything like this before, this violent surge of emotions overcoming him so completely he doesn’t think he’d be able to as much as say a word if prompted.

What is even happening?

“Jonathan. Shh,” Elisabeth says. She’s reaching around his shoulders, rubbing his upper arm as if the gesture alone would bring him back to his usual calm and collected demeanour. Her sympathy only makes him want to throw up, but he does his best not to flinch. He should never have invited Geoffrey here. God, he’ll _lose_ him before he even has a chance to really have him. “You’re wrong, Jon. He’s mad about you, you know.”

It’s not true, Jonathan knows. Geoffrey might be able to stand him, but mad about him? No. Elisabeth has to be wrong. She hardly ever is, though, and that twists a knife of hope a bit deeper inside him. Maybe Geoffrey _was_ a bit interested? No. It can’t be. And even if he were, Jonathan’s probably gone and lost his chance now, if the curious way Geoffrey is looking at Ms Wright is anything to go by.

Jonathan grits his teeth and carefully disentangles himself from the comfort of Elisabeth’s touch. He feels like his heart is being torn right out him. Being stabbed in the chest didn’t hurt this much.

Ms Wright has let go of Geoffrey’s hand now, but she’s touching his shoulder and Jonathan can’t look, no, please, can’t bring himself to watch it but at the same time he can’t tear his eyes away. He wants to ask Elisabeth if it’s okay if he leaves and he’s not sure if he’s talking about her house or the country, for that matter.

But he can’t find his voice. When he looks at Elisabeth, she has this look of pained compassion on her face. He buries his face in his hands for a second. He thought he’d have enough time to see this through. What a mess. _Stupid_ , how could he be this stupid? Then Elisabeth is calling his name urgently and he looks up in time to see Geoffrey striding across the room towards him. He opens his mouth to ask what’s happening, but before he can say thing Geoffrey envelops him in a firm embrace and presses their lips together.

Jonathan has a second to think, _these are Geoffrey’s lips_ , before he stops thinking at all.

Geoffrey kisses him like it’s a debate and he’s hell-bent on putting forward a very compelling argument. And Jonathan is compelled, all right. Compelled and completely out of his mind, the dizziness that had been steadily taking now envelops him completely as he swoons in the tight embrace Geoffrey’s arms. Geoffrey’s lips are warm and his tongue is sliding into Jonathan’s mouth now, curling against his own tongue and plunging inside like he wants to taste the air in Jonathan’s lungs. Jonathan’s knees go weak and the only reason he’s still standing is Geoffrey’s arms around his middle, keeping him close, forcing him to arch back as their lips part and reconnect — like no one is watching, seconds sliding into minutes that seem to stretch on forever.

Heat washes over Jonathan from head to toes as his fingers run through Geoffrey’s hair, a hungry noise escaping into their increasingly hungry kisses only to be echoed by Geoffrey’s own groan. Geoffrey takes hold of Jonathan’s waist with both hands, fingers squeezing possessively as he sucks the Ekon’s lower lip in between his own teeth. Jonathan gasps in the small space between them and he’s more letting himself be kissed at this point than actively kissing back, but Geoffrey seems to like that if the heat pressed into Jonathan’s hip is anything to go by.

Geoffrey smells so good, this up close. Warm and aroused and _mine_ , Jonathan thinks, fingers digging into the meat of Geoffrey’s shoulders, barely holding on to consciousness as it is.

Very distantly, Jonathan realises that they’re in public. They probably shouldn’t be passionately snogging in the middle of Elisabeth’s house. There are at least a dozen people present, watching their desperate display of affection. Somehow, though, that doesn’t really seem that important. He’s so lightheaded and Geoffrey is his to kiss, to hold, and he’s falling — quite literally, too, he realises a second too late. His legs give in and he goes to his knees in the middle of Elisabeth’s hallway and Geoffrey is coming down with him, pressing their foreheads together and breathing against his lips like he’s just run a marathon. Jonathan pulls him in by the hair, their mouths brushing.

“Jesus,” Geoffrey exhales, pressing one last hard kiss to Jonathan lips. The hand he brushes against the side of Jonathan’s face is as shaky as Jonathan feels. Then their eyes meet and the sobering reality of what just happened hits them. A calloused thumb strokes the skin right under Jonathan’s eye, the touch gentle, almost loving. In utter disbelief, Geoffrey asks, “What have I done?”

He pulls his hand away from Jonathan very slowly and then stares at his open palm like he doesn’t recognise it. A wave of nausea hits Jonathan as horror dawns on Geoffrey’s face.

“Geoffrey,” Jonathan whispers. He chances a glance around and is glad to realise most of the guests have been directed towards a different part of the house. Charlotte and Elisabeth still linger, though, along with Ms Wright.

“Shit, Reid,” Geoffrey exhales, shaking his head as he stands up. He stumbles as he does so, flinches as Elisabeth reaches out to steady him. He’s so flustered Jonathan can’t even be angry when he stutters a, “I should- I should go, right? I’m… I’m gonna-”

Elisabeth is quicker. She leans down to help Jonathan up as she tells her daughter, “Charlotte, dear, get poor Mr McCullum some water.” The whole room starts spinning again as Jonathan tries to get back up. Elisabeth is holding up most of his weight, but the corners of his vision still start to darken. Elisabeth asks, “What have you done?”

“Ah, I just couldn’t help myself.” The voice that responds is soft, oddly musical and very close. Ms Wright is helping Elisabeth keep Jonathan up as Jonathan’s eyelids drop once, twice. “I might have hit them too hard?”

Elisabeth’s exasperated, “You _think_?” is the last thing Jonathan hears before passing out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lots of fore-foreplay and talk about shagging on elisabeth's carpet

Jonathan comes to lying on a long chaise in Elisabeth’s study, a soft pillow under his head and no idea how he ended up there. He blinks up at the ceiling a couple of times in utter confusion, distantly registering how weak he feels — like he hasn’t fed in weeks, but he’s not exactly hungry, which is… new. And very odd. The fact that he tends to keep himself on the brink of starvation most of the time makes him particularly familiar with hazy thoughts and weakness, but this is entirely new, this shivering mess he’s been reduced to.

He can faintly hear Elisabeth arguing, accusing, angry like Jonathan’s never heard her before, and Ms Wright’s half-hearted apologies.

“It’s just… Beth, you don’t know what it’s like. I’ve been away for so _long_.” Mr Wright sounds so defeated, almost embarrassed, but even through the thick fog that is currently his consciousness, Jonathan is not sure he believes her. “And the two of them… I was so hungry. I just- I couldn’t resist.”

Jonathan tries to sit up. He doesn’t quite manage to and settles for flopping down against the backrest and groaning in frustration. Such a simple thing seems to require so much of him.

Elisabeth is by his side in an instant, probing, “How are you feeling, Jonathan?”

“Dizzy,” Jonathan uncertainly replies, memories of the night crashing over him in disorienting waves. He blinks up at Elisabeth. How long has he been out? And, more importantly, “Is- is Geoffrey all right?” and more quietly, as if talking to himself, “What on Earth happened?”

Elisabeth stands up a bit taller as she narrows her eyes at Ms Wright. “You explain, Lenore. I should go check on Mr McCullum.”

The disapproving coldness in Elisabeth’s gaze would be enough for Jonathan to cower, but Ms Wright just sighs longsuffering and pulls up a chair as Elisabeth leaves.

“So, Dr Reid,” Ms Wright begins, sitting down and resting her chin on top of her intertwined fingers. A glint of golden in her eyes, she very professorially asks, “What do you know about incubi and succubi?”

-x-

“I am so, so sorry. What a goddamn spectacle. What a disgrace! God, I don’t even know- I have no idea what came over me,” Geoffrey is saying to Charlotte just as the young woman’s mother makes her way into the foyer. “I wasn’t thinking,” he explains, now turning his pleading eyes to Elisabeth. He’s a bundle of nervous energy, a dark blush spreading from his cheeks to his ears and down the strong lines of his neck.

If Elisabeth didn’t know better, she’d think the man was sick.

“No, you weren’t, but that’s quite all right. You’re among friends, here,” Charlotte reassures him, filling a glass of water and pushing it into the hunter’s hands. “Did you, by any chance, not… _mean_ what you did?” she very carefully asks.

“No! No, it’s not that. I mean-” Geoffrey pauses to drink his water, downs half the glass in one go before continuing, “I meant it, all right, but that’s not how it was supposed to go. It’s not like I was going to _do_ anything. I mean, it’s Reid, for Christ’s sake. God, the poor sod must be _horrified_.” Geoffrey has got a hand pressed to the side of his face, pale blue eyes fixed sightlessly on the wall in front of him. “I can’t believe I kissed him.”

Then he shudders and takes another sip of his glass. Elisabeth can’t help but smile.

“Oh, I think you’d be surprised, Mr McCullum,” she tells him, taking way more amusement in doing so than the situation calls for now that Ms Wright cannot witness it. “Do you still want to leave?”

That makes the hunter pause, glancing nervously at the front door.

“I- I’m not sure,” he ends up saying. He looks so genuinely conflicted, biting down on his lower lip, his breathing shallow and erratic. His eyes are bright, though, and for an instant Elisabeth can almost understand why Jonathan is so captivated with the man. It’s endearing, really, seeing such a burly man become so flustered. “I should, shouldn’t I?”

“I don’t think so, Mr McCullum. I really don’t,” Elisabeth tells him very honestly. “In fact, I think you should come with me. Jonathan has come to. He asked after you.”

“Oh?” Geoffrey says, his expression softening in an embarrassingly obvious sort of hope. It’s all Elisabeth can do not to roll her eyes in exasperation.

-x-

Geoffrey kneels beside Jonathan the instant he sees the Ekon, a rush of apologies tumbling from his lips as he takes Jonathan’s hands in his own, thumbs rubbing circles against his colder skin, sharp blue eyes pleading for the forgiveness of the utterly astonished doctor who doesn’t even seem to understand the reason for Geoffrey’s anguish — although he’s more than happy to have the hunter touching him like that, gazing so desperately into his eyes.

“What is the problem, Geoffrey? What is it?” asks Jonathan. Geoffrey goes on, cursing and apologising in the same breath, almost incoherent in his desperation. Jonathan sits up and reaches to comfort Geoffrey with his hands at first, touching his shoulders and upper arms, but very soon he’s using his lips, leaning in to brush the hunter’s cheeks and then the redness of his mouth, smothering his frantic explanations with kisses soft and sweet.

Jonathan misses Elisabeth’s exasperated sigh, but not her annoyed exclamation of, “ _Lenore_!”

“I’m not doing anything, Beth!” exclaims Ms Wright, moving a bit closer to where Jonathan is still doing his best to swallow Geoffrey’s apologies. She reaches for the hunter, trying to pull him up, and it’s a good thing Jonathan’s strength is not quite back yet because he sees red when her hand wraps around Geoffrey’s arm. As it is, he only manages a quiet growl and a threatening glower that the woman makes a show of ignoring. Thankfully, she gives the hunter some space after he’s standing up straight, blinking at her with confused indignation.

“All right. Mr McCullum, if I could have your attention for an instant. There you go.” She nods approvingly. “I would like to offer you my most sincere apologies. I just couldn’t help myself, you see, especially after I realised how hopelessly in love you are. I must confess, though, that I have grossly underestimated the depth of your emotions and, well… here we are.” She vaguely gestures around. Geoffrey scowls.

“What on Earth are you on about, woman?”

“She’s a succubus, Geoffrey,” Jonathan wearily offers. “Even now, she’s feeding on… my attraction for you.”

“Oh,” Geoffrey intelligently responds, face going even redder. His eyes dart around nervously and for a second Elisabeth worries that he’ll make a run for the front door.

“Your attraction for each other, actually. And, no, I’m not. Feeding, I mean. Not anymore, anyways. I had more than my fill, I’ll let you know,” Ms Wright informs them with a giggle. Elisabeth harrumphs, shooting her friend a warning look. Ms Wright crosses her arms with an innocent, “What?”

Geoffrey and Jonathan are currently too busy trying and failing not to stare hopefully at each other to pay the women any mind.

“D’you-” Geoffrey chokes on his words, but Jonathan nods his head in confirmation regardless. Whatever the question is, the answer is yes. For Geoffrey, it will always be yes.

“I thought you had left. I was worried,” Jonathan whispers and Geoffrey crouches down next to him once more. He reaches for Jonathan’s face, cradles it between his palms just as Jonathan mutters, “I’m so very glad you didn’t.”

Geoffrey smiles at Jonathan, small and private, pleased surprise in his eyes, but some uncertainty still lingers when he says, “I thought you’d be… repulsed.”

“Quite the opposite, I’m afraid,” Jonathan admits, setting his palm on top of Geoffrey’s hand where it rests on his face.

“I saw this look on your face, before. You were-” Geoffrey begins, struggling to find the words — angry? Disgusted?

“Half-crazy with jealousy,” Ms Wright helpfully supplies. Geoffrey’s eyes widen while Jonathan cringes at the succubus’s words.

“Oh, I have no interest in her, Jonathan.” Geoffrey’s words are very earnest. “No offence, Ms Wright,” he sheepishly adds a second later.

Ms Wright actually laughs at that. “None taken, sweetheart.”

Her humour doesn’t quite manage to reach Jonathan, however. Even the sound of her voice makes him want to snarl and show his fangs like the beast he tries so hard not to be. He does his best to reign it in, but it’s not easy. So, when he manages to catch Elisabeth’s gaze, he asks, “Do you mind giving us a minute?”

Elisabeth understandably hesitates, but ends up acquiescing when she takes note of the discomfort in the doctor’s eyes. She says something about the other guests, Charlotte shouldn’t have to tend to them all by herself, after all, they should head out.

“Oh, do we _have_ to?” Ms Wright all but whines as Elisabeth ushers her out of the study. “You know they’ll end up shagging on your carpet, dear,” she stage-whispers to Elisabeth right before disappearing through the door.

Elisabeth pauses and at first Jonathan thinks she’s put-off by the vulgarity of her friend’s words, but after a brief moment of hesitation she glances at Jonathan and quietly asks, “Please don’t have sex on the carpet.”

Jonathan is not entirely sure she means it as a joke and he’s _not_ entirely sure of his own honesty when he replies with a flustered, “Oh, of course!”

Because he met Geoffrey’s eyes as Ms Wright left and he wasn’t thinking about that before — he’s barely over the fact that he’s kissed Geoffrey at all and more than once! Sex on the carpet? The idea just blows his mind, really, but it’s too late. The seed has been planted.

As soon as the door clicks shut, Jonathan reaches for Geoffrey’s face with a hand that shakes too much. The tips of his fingers feel electrified against the hunter’s skin, the gentle thrum of arousal so deep in his bones despite how lethargic he still feels.

Geoffrey holds his gaze, barely breathing, his eyes darkening in a way that makes Jonathan feel at once terrified and exhilarated.

“How do you feel?” Jonathan manages.

The hunter leans closer, forehead almost brushing Jonathan’s, and confesses, “Right now? I'm so turned on it hurts to look at you.” Jonathan nods dumbly, mouth suddenly very dry. If he concentrates, he can see the red tinge of Geoffrey’s blood pooling between the hunter’s legs, pulsating with every beat of his heart, warm and — Jonathan's nostril flare — _wet_ , slick sticking to his underwear, threatening to seep into his trousers. It must be painful, Jonathan considers. Has he been like this all this time? “What did that woman do to us?”

Jonathan brushes Geoffrey’s hair back and explains, “She has this ability, it’s- it’s a bit like the mesmer Ekons sometimes use, but she can’t really compel the unwilling, you see.” Jonathan smiles when Geoffrey leans into his hand, chasing his touch. “She can only awaken what lies dormant, what is already there. With some unfortunate side effects, I must say. I feel like I’m just getting over the nastiest cold, but also... good, somehow.”

“Are we still under it?” Geoffrey wants to know. He definitely feels more in control of himself now, but he’s still unsure if Jonathan’s fingertips brushing the side of his face feel at once like fire and ice because of Ms Wright’s influence or if this is how life is going to be now, him chasing helplessly after the delight of Jonathan’s affections now that he knows he’s able to actually gain them.

“I don’t think so.” Like it’s a secret, Jonathan whispers, “And, since we’re talking, I have to say I also don’t think I can go back to pretending I don’t feel the way I do.”

Geoffrey sort of loves the way Jonathan is looking at him, warm and gentle, the barest hint of a smile on the corner of his lips.

“And how is it that you feel, Dr Reid?” The question sounds like a challenge which Jonathan promptly takes on, wrapping both arms around Geoffrey and pulling him in close. The position they’re in, Geoffrey still crouched in front of Jonathan, is awkward but not awkward enough to prevent Geoffrey from melting into the Ekon’s embrace.

“Like I can’t breathe unless you’re kissing me,” Jonathan whispers against Geoffrey’s deliciously warm lips.

Geoffrey closes the distance between them, bringing their lips together in a kiss so slow he can barely stand it. He slips his tongue between Jonathan’s lips, traces the tip a sharp fang with it before delving inside for a taste, groaning in satisfaction at every brush of their tongues, every biting twist.

Jonathan aches fiercely with it, a myriad of impulses fighting for dominance inside him — suck, lick. _Bite_.

“Oh, god,” he gasps and wraps both hands behind Geoffrey’s head to kiss him the way he wants to, all of his sluggishness and fatigue completely forgotten. He sucks on Geoffrey’s tongue for a moment before licking into Geoffrey’s mouth for a deep, messy kiss.

“Not shagging on the carpet,” murmurs Geoffrey as he climbs onto the chaise and on top of Jonathan.

“No, not at all,” Jonathan responds, very appreciative of Geoffrey’s warm weight on top of him. “Kiss me some more.”

Geoffrey gracefully complies, murmuring softly, “Oh, those lips. I swear, Reid, your mouth will be the death of me,” while thumbing the curve of Jonathan’s lower lip and threatening to devour him at the same time.

“I can hear your heart,” Jonathan says between one kiss and the next one. He feels like he’s losing his mind, the pulling tide of Geoffrey’s desire rushing through the hunter’s veins and washing over him in turn. “Your blood. Pulsing.”

“Can you tell?” Geoffrey’s smirk arches against Jonathan’s lips, his hips pressing down, pushing the hard heat of his dick into Jonathan’s thigh as if for emphasis. He seems to get lost in the motion a bit, repeating it when Jonathan gasps in delight at the pressure it puts on his own erection. “Can you tell how much I want you?”

Jonathan nods. “I can tell a _lot_ of things.” One of Jonathan’s hands is sneaking between their bodies, only one thing on his mind: Geoffrey’s cock, he _needs_ to feel it, to touch it, and the hunter is shuddering in anticipation above him. Jonathan stops just short of brushing against it. He’s doesn’t think he’ll be able to stop if they start off like this. “I shouldn’t. We shouldn’t,” he breathes against Geoffrey’s lips.

“Touch me. Come on. I want you so _much_.” There’s an edge of frustration bleeding into Geoffrey’s husky voice as his hips roll, _god,_ right against where Jonathan too is aching for his touch.

“I want you too.” Jonathan’s words sound like a promise. “I’ve wanted you for a long time, hunter. I never thought-”

Geoffrey kisses him again before Jonathan can get all the words out. “Sounds to me…” the hunter begins, the tip of his tongue against the seam of Jonathan’s lips in a playful lick. “… we’ve got some time…” His hips roll down once, twice, and Jonathan hisses. “… to make up for.”

Jonathan buries his fingers into Geoffrey’s hair, kisses him hard enough to bruise even though he tries to argue, “We should talk, though.” At the moment, Geoffrey seems to be more interested in hearing Jonathan’s moans than his opinions. “We need to think. I can’t… Can’t think. I need-”

“Let me.” Geoffrey reaches down between their bodies to get a hold of Jonathan through his trousers. Jonathan can’t help but press against the heat of Geoffrey’s hand, the pressure maddening and perfect but not nearly enough. His head falls forward to rest against Geoffrey’s shoulder just as Geoffrey manages to pull Jonathan’s cock out of his clothes, fingers warm and tight but unmoving because of the tight grip Jonathan has on his wrist.

“Oh, Geoffrey, I- I can’t stop, I don’t want to stop,” he says, at once holding the hunter still and pressing his length through the tight circle of his fingers. Geoffrey watches him intently, barely believing his eyes. Jonathan’s such a sight, so desperate for his touch, but still trying to hold back, to be reasonable, lamenting, “But we’re not alone here.”

Warm, the word keeps running through Jonathan’s brain in an endless loop. Geoffrey is so _warm_. He already knew that, knew Geoffrey’s skin and _touch_ would be warm, warmer than his own cold, lifeless flesh, but it still startles him, how _good_ it feels, that tight heat around his painfully hard cock — it actually makes him think of how else he might be able to experience the hunter’s warmth.

Geoffrey glances at the door and coyly asks, “They’re still there?”

“Downstairs.” It’s hard to concentrate, but Jonathan can sense no presence on the floor they’re on. Geoffrey smirks, fingers tightening around Jonathan’s length, moving minutely as if trying to test the grip Jonathan’s got on his wrist.

“You reckon they can hear us?”

“That’s almost certain,” replies Jonathan. It’s not exactly comfortable, his trousers and underwear pulled down just enough to free his cock, but he doesn’t dare push Geoffrey’s hand away. His grip on the hunter’s wrist loosens as Geoffrey’s movements become more confident.

“We’d have to be very quiet,” Geoffrey warns him even as his touch wrenches strangled moans from Jonathan’s throat. It’s a terrible idea, it’s what it is, but Jonathan feels like he’s burning up from the inside. It would be the easiest thing for Geoffrey to bring him off like this, but they… they really shouldn’t.

“There are other things,” Jonathan argues. “The smell, for one. Do you have any idea what you smell like?” Jonathan drags his nose up the column of Geoffrey’s neck, inhaling the delicious scent of him and proclaiming, “You smell like sex.”

“Oh, jeez, I wonder why,” Geoffrey cheekily responds. “I’d say we leave. Go somewhere. But I don’t think you can leave like this,” he squeezes around Jonathan for emphasis, his own hips rolling against Jonathan’s thigh. “And neither can I, for that matter.” There’s a subtle tremor in Geoffrey’s shoulders. He’s probably hurting, Jonathan thinks. He should really- oh.

Jonathan’s lips part in awe when he presses his hand between Geoffrey’s legs, trying to offer him some relief. Geoffrey immediately sags against him, moaning low and deeply and almost grateful.

“We’ll figure it out,” Jonathan reassures him. Geoffrey’s hard and so hot in his grip, almost intimidatingly thick and Jonathan wants to tear their clothes right off, then and there, let Geoffrey bend him over the nearest surface and wreck him. He’s just about to give in and just let it happen, too, but then he freezes.

“What is it?”

Jonathan frowns. “They’re leaving, I think. The guests.” For a long moment, they just breathe together and wait. “Oh, someone’s coming. I think it’s Charlotte.”

Geoffrey’s eyes widen. “That’s some ear you’ve got there, Dr Reid.”

They part briefly to make themselves presentable — or as presentable as possible. A moment later, there’s a knock on the door.

“Dr Reid? Mr McCullum?” Charlotte calls, her voice muffled by the wooden door. “Mum has set up the guest bedroom for the two of you and… Well, we’re going for a walk, me, mum and Ms Wright. After she sees the other guests out, I mean. And… we’ll probably be a _while_ ,” she says with a barely contained laugh. “She just asks that you leave the windows open and try to be mindful of her furniture.”

Jonathan’s face is positively burning with embarrassment. Geoffrey seems to have moved quite past feeling embarrassed, however, and is now sitting on the edge of the chaise Jonathan’s occupying and grinning at the Ekon’s obvious discomfort.

“Oh, and Ms Wright says she’s sorry,” Charlotte adds before she walks off with a cheerful, “All right! See you boys later!”

Jonathan makes Geoffrey wait until he’s absolutely sure there’s no one but them inside. He’s punishing the hunter as well as himself by doing so, though.

“So,” Geoffrey begins, failing to conceal his enthusiasm as the heavy warmth of his hand comes to rest on top of Jonathan’s thigh. When Jonathan meets his gaze, something warm flutters wildly inside his chest and spreads like wildfire. Geoffrey smirks, perfectly aware of the effect he’s having on the other man. “Where is that guest bedroom again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, classes have started, so it might be a few weeks until I'm able to update again, but this story is mostly ready, I just have to actually get it in a decent enough shape to post it, but it absolutely will be finished, you have my word!
> 
> also, in case that wasn't clear, this story is just a one way ride to bone-town, just a huge excuse for a smut fest really which shall start in the next chapter, so, yeah (:
> 
> see you guys soon <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is just smut. and five orgasms. i might implement an orgasm counter just for this story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the way I am with smut is that I will scrutinize the hell out of it until I'm cross-eyed and completely blind to my own mistakes so I decided to get this out now because 1-it's been a WHILE since I updated and I left you guys hanging a bit ashdahdshas 2-I will drive myself crazy revising it and 3-I can always upload a revised version in a few weeks once my author-blindness has subsided
> 
> so please let me know if you see anything weird out there, please? (redundancies, extra words I forgot to delete, wrong prepositions - the bane of my existence). I really appreciate it <3

The only reason Geoffrey knows they’re in a bedroom is that he catches a glimpse of the bed when they first enter. He doesn’t have any time to really appreciate Lady Ashbury’s taste in décor, though — there’s a whole lot of blue around, cerulean, teal, all of it a blur — because currently he is too busy shivering and cursing breathlessly, precariously held up by the wooden door closed at his back and the ravenous Ekon kissing up and down his throat. Teeth, dangerously sharp, graze the vulnerable curve of his neck, lips that are becoming increasingly warmer in contact with the heat of his skin lay teasing kisses down his throat and then suck, nip and worry at his skin until there’s no place left untouched except for what’s still hidden under his clothes — so _those_ obviously have to go.

“What’s the rush, Dr Reid?” Geoffrey asks when Jonathan starts popping the buttons on his clothes, but his provocation is betrayed by how out of breath he sounds.

Jonathan thinks that, well, _he_ did that. He did that to Geoffrey. He’s the reason the hunter sounds like he’s been running up a hill, he’s the reason Geoffrey’s lips are red and bruised, his eyes dark and shiny, his trousers tented. Well, he and maybe whatever it was Ms Wright did to them. Still, it’s his hands that make Geoffrey’s shirt and coat fall off his broad shoulders and then Jonathan has to take a minute to fully appreciate the sight in front of him. Geoffrey, pale and scarred here and there and _strong_ , thick with muscle, his chest heaving, flushed an almost pretty shade of pink under dark hair that spreads across it. He’s entirely made of opposites and Jonathan is so hopelessly in love with him it makes his stomach hurt.

Geoffrey meets Jonathan’s eyes, watches the Ekon watch him as he drags long, pale fingers over Geoffrey’s sternum, down the centre of Geoffrey’s chest and then to the right so he can cup the tight muscle of Geoffrey’s pectoral in the palm of his hand. Soon, his lips are following the very same path because he hungers.

God, he _hungers_.

The scent Jonathan’s used to associating with Geoffrey is even denser this up close, Geoffrey’s sweat bitter and salty under the hairs that tickle Jonathan’s lips. He takes the tight tip of a nipple, pale and tightened to a hard knot, between his lips, flicks his tongue over it while his free hand reaches for the other one, fingertips pressing, nails scraping over it. Geoffrey moans like it hurts, but he’s arching up for it, one hand reaching behind Jonathan’s hand, heavy and strong but not really pushing him down or away, just holding on to his hair, to him.

Jonathan groans. He can’t get enough of the feel of Geoffrey against his tongue.

“Reid! God,” Geoffrey rasps out, knees buckling. He feels electrified, his cock is so hard he’s almost certain he’ll spill in his pants if Jonathan keeps this up much longer. His fingers tighten almost painfully on Jonathan’s dark locks when the Ekon dares to press teeth against Geoffrey’s flesh, careful but dangerous all the same. Pleasure zaps through the hunter’s entire body and he shudders helplessly, hips shifting to press against whatever part of Jonathan he can reach. “H-how -”

Geoffrey is not sure what he’s even asking. Jonathan seems to have awakened a connection between his cock and his nipples that Geoffrey never really knew was there. Every flick of the Ekon’s tongue and fingers, every press of teeth and nails, God, Geoffrey can feel it in his groin, tightening his balls and making him throb. Jonathan widens his lips as if trying to take the whole expanse of Geoffrey’s pectoral into his mouth, tongue laving across his nipple for a long moment before he moves to the other side of Geoffrey’s chest to grant the opposite nipple the same treatment while his fingers take over on the first one, thumb rubbing saliva into the sensitive flesh, the sharp edge of his nails just the right side of painful.

Geoffrey’s can feel himself circling closer and closer to climax almost entirely untouched and it almost hurts. He tries to reach for his fly while Jonathan feasts on his chest, manages to gets it mostly undone, pushes his underwear and trousers down his thighs and Jonathan lets out a low noise of distress the instant Geoffrey does so.

The scent of Geoffrey’s arousal, bared to him like this, hits him like a punch to the gut. He nuzzles Geoffrey’s stomach, glances down. Geoffrey’s cock is wet with slick, thick and flushed an angry shade of red.

Jonathan has never in his life wanted to taste something more.

“I dreamt about this,” he admits, lips brushing Geoffrey’s left hipbone. He takes Geoffrey’s length in both his hands, testing the girth and weight of him, thumbs teasing the tight mounds of his testicles. He’s big and hard and burning so hot, twitching under the simple touch, breathing shallowly and fast. Jonathan stares at him with his lips parted in awe. “You’re astonishing.”

Jonathan can’t get it all the way into his mouth but it hardly seems to matter. His jaw aches, his throat protests the pressure, but he doesn’t need to come up for air, so he encourages Geoffrey when he starts to try to move, pushing his cock deeper into Jonathan’s eager mouth. Jonathan doesn’t think of how he might look to Geoffrey like this, on his knees, lips parted wide on his cock, one of his hands working whatever he can’t quite fit in his mouth. He doesn’t think about how he’s never done anything quite like this before. He does think, though, that it is a very good thing that they are alone, because he can’t help but moan around Geoffrey’s member and Geoffrey keeps making these wounded noises, hoarse and breathless, louder and louder as his pleasure peaks. Jonathan sucks even harder then, works his mouth around him faster, revelling in how the taste of him grows sharper and sharper until Geoffrey’s spills into Jonathan’s hungry mouth, biting off a curse and raking his fingers through Jonathan’s hair. Jonathan almost chokes on it, on the suddenness and amount of it, can’t help but greedily swallow every drop last of it.

Jonathan slows his movements down until he stops, but doesn’t pull away. Geoffrey hisses when Jonathan’s tongue slides across the sensitive head of his prick. He doesn’t soften, really, but Jonathan backs off regardless, trailing light kisses over the crease of Geoffrey’s hip and then further down. Geoffrey widens his stance, welcoming Jonathan’s more exploratory touches, entire body still shaking in the aftermath of his orgasm. Jonathan feels dizzy, Geoffrey’s scent is so thick down here. The Ekon finds himself pushing his face between the hunter’s thighs in search of still untouched, hidden territory.

Very soon one of Geoffrey’s legs is hanging from Jonathan’s shoulder and Jonathan is sliding his tongue across and then into Geoffrey’s twitching hole while Geoffrey fists his still very sensitive cock, saying, “Should have known you were a pervert, Reid- _God_ , don’t stop! That’s it! Yeah, fuck me with your tongue.” Jonathan doesn’t need the encouragement, not really, but Geoffrey’s words make him feel like he’s about to burst right out of his own skin. He’s almost lifting Geoffrey off the ground with his enthusiasm. At least he’s got his strength all back, it seems. “Oh, that’s… Yes! Wait, what are y- don’t stop!”

“I’m sorry, but I have to have you,” Jonathan very seriously tells Geoffrey as he effortlessly gathers the hunter into his arms and moves them to the bed. Geoffrey barely has time to understand what’s going on with Jonathan’s inhuman speed, how casually he displays his strength. He tries to glare at the Ekon, but he doesn’t quite manage to because he’s distracted by the sight of Jonathan undressing in a blur of fabric. He’s a mess, is what he is. Completely. His dishevelled hair, the dangerous darkness in his eyes, the wetness of his lips, his cock hanging heavy and hard between his legs, just as pale as the rest of him, ashen against the dark hair on his groin.

“You have me,” Geoffrey whispers, arms wrapping around Jonathan’s neck as the Ekon drapes himself on top of him. They’re touching everywhere, now, the sensation so sudden and intense it startles the truth out of Geoffrey. “You’ve always had me, Jonathan.”

Some strange obscure emotion passes through Jonathan’s eyes, gone in a second. “You can’t just say things like that, hunter,” he whispers a second before he kisses Geoffrey good and stupid.

“No? What should I say, then, huh? _Oh, ravish me, Dr Reid_.” Jonathan laughs against Geoffrey’s smiling lips. Oh, what Jonathan wouldn’t do to keep that playful glint shining forever in the hunter’s gaze. Geoffrey briefly tightens his legs around Jonathan, eyes narrowing, serious now. “Come on. Fuck me.”

Jonathan licks his lips. It just hits him, the enormity of what they’re about to do, what they’ve apparently been headed towards this entire time. It’s only bravado that keeps him from losing his mind as he slicks himself up with his own spit and lines up with the burning pressure of Geoffrey’s entrance. It’s almost too tight, so hot he feels like he’s melting into Geoffrey, fusing into him, might never be able to detach himself, really. He fucks Geoffrey slowly, languid rolls of his hips, until Geoffrey is pushing back against him, hissing, “Told you to fuck me.” His eyes are dark. Wild. “Come on. Harder.”

Jonathan kisses Geoffrey’s cheek very lovingly, says, “You asked for it,” and Geoffrey shudders in both anticipation and apprehension when Jonathan moves back to sit on his heels, pulling Geoffrey by the hips so that his legs are thrown back, the molten core of him completely exposed. Jonathan buries himself in the tight heat, his first thrust hard and aimed so precisely Geoffrey suddenly and blindingly finds himself on the brink of a second orgasm.

The next thrust is even harder, otherworldly in its strength and absolutely perfect. Geoffrey melts into it and when Jonathan looks down at his body, Geoffrey wonders if he’s watching the blood pooling into his cock and balls, wonders if Jonathan can see the knife’s edge he’s balancing on as that cock pushes right against his prostate on every brutal thrust. He’s so close. Geoffrey knows he’s asked for it and he would pat himself in the back if he were able to do anything other than dig his fingers into the mattress, arch further up, legs up in the air, and hold on.

He sees Jonathan’s orgasm start in the almost hostile snarl that curls the Ekon’s upper lip. Then there’s this groan he lets out, not unlike that of an injured beast, and the stutter in the violent push of his hips as he stiffens further and comes long and hard into Geoffrey’s arse. Geoffrey feels it, actually _feels_ it as Jonathan pumps his release into him, slowly collapsing on top of Geoffrey, hips rolling and rolling endlessly. Geoffrey wraps one arm around him, reaches for his own cock with his free hand. It almost hurts to touch himself and he hisses as his pleasure peaks a second time. He spills between his fingers, splattering his and Jonathan’s stomach with his warm release as he clenches around the cock still moving inside him.

“Keep going,” Geoffrey whispers even as he twitches with aftershocks. Jonathan is still hard as a rock inside him, still moving — slowly, now, languorously. It hurts a bit, like a bruise you can’t stop touching. And Geoffrey wants more. Shit, he can feel it still, pleasure cresting inside him, sharp and maddening. “Don’t stop.”

Jonathan moans, deep and desperately. Geoffrey is so slick, now, he feels like heaven, warm and soft. Jonathan can feel the wetness of his own semen slowly leaking out of Geoffrey every time he moves and there’s a part of him that wants to push it all back inside, to push more of it into Geoffrey, get him covered in it, mark him up, make him undeniably his. He picks his speed back up and he’s almost bending the hunter in half, now, all but pounding him into the mattress. They’re making a mess of the sheets, the bed, and each other. He never wants it to end, wants to keep making love to Geoffrey all night long until they’re nothing but bruises and sweat and semen. He wants to bury himself into the hunter and never leave.

“Yeah, do it,” Geoffrey grunts. He can tell Jonathan is about to come one more time and he… god, he wants it. Wants it in him, he’s spreading his legs even further, his own pleasure strapped to the heels of Jonathan’s. “Come on, Reid. Let go.”

With a menacing roar, Jonathan comes again. He’s almost incoherent with the pleasure of it, but he still reaches for Geoffrey’s cock, brings him off so easily Geoffrey would feel embarrassed if he were able to feel anything beyond the blindingly bright haze of pleasure around him.

“You’ve come almost dry,” Jonathan tells him. There’s an odd sort of awe in his voice when he speaks and Geoffrey almost can’t stand to meet his eyes, so honest and warm.

Geoffrey winces when Jonathan pulls out even though he’s careful. A flood of wetness rushes in his wake and Geoffrey uselessly tries to clench around it, tries to avoid making an even bigger mess, but everything is a mess already, the exquisite bedspread they’re lying on hopelessly stained, so he just lies there in a daze while Jonathan gets up to open the windows.

The air really does smell like sex even to Geoffrey’s very human senses.

His entire body is sore and he feels tired like he hasn’t in ages, the sort of tired he gets after a week-long hunt or something similar. He vaguely notices Jonathan moving around the room then leaning over him with a warm wet cloth to clean him up. Geoffrey offers no resistance to Jonathan’s ministrations, but when the Ekon tries to move away Geoffrey pulls him back down and into a kiss.

Jonathan kisses him back, abandons the cloth on the floor next to the bed and settles against Geoffrey with a heavy sigh. And even though Geoffrey’s arousal and desire have been sated for the time being, this feels fantastic, just lying together in a loose embrace, their legs tangled.

“Should we wait for them to come back?” Geoffrey asks, stifling a yawn. Jonathan brushes Geoffrey’s hair back from his face, a fond look in his eyes, his free hand drawing circles on Geoffrey’s hip.

“I’m not sure. Are you feeling well enough to move?”

“I think so. I don’t think I’ll be able to look your friends in the eye, so we might as well leave now.”

Jonathan nods slowly, shifting so that he can lay his head on Geoffrey’s shoulder. “We’ll go, then, in a minute,” he sighs, eyes involuntarily sliding closed.

“Yes, in a minute,” Geoffrey agrees, tucking Jonathan more securely against him. “You’re not that cold, now,” he casually observes.

“I wonder why,” is Jonathan’s sleepy response.

They’re both fast asleep in a matter of seconds.


End file.
